A daily poetry practice to generate and sustain the Life/Lines among us, for published and novice poets alike
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Prompt
Write a short poem (rhyming not necessary) that includes each of the following 5 words (anywhere and in any order). Poems should not exceed 7 or 8 lines.
Grateful
Spring
Walk
Water
Isolation
Send us your poem via our Submissions page or post on Twitter or Facebook using the hashtag #lifelines.
Today’s words were contributed by Washington University Chancellor Andrew Martin.
Poems submitted for April 8
Though I am in isolation
My God gives me a spring of a living water
I’m so grateful for Him
It is spring
And as I walk, I can’t help but sing a joyous hymn
— Maureen Kleekamp
***
Spring’s bud crouches
In desperate isolation until
Water plumps her legs and warmth coaxes her face.
She unfurls her grateful walk to find Summer’s grace.
— Debra Kennard
***
Looks for a simple thing, spring looking at me,
I surrender, spring will pursue its dream.
Now, the Bosphorus has flown and
sea creatures have walked along the water bottom.
Lie down, if you want isolation, lie down then to forget,
these traces cannot be erased.
Lifting my head up, feeling grateful, after all.
— Deniz Gundogan Ibrisim (PhD Candidate, Comparative Literature)
***
This morning's walk
in isolation;
but not isolated from
the gift of spring rain.
I am grateful for the water
that flows in communion
with bluebonnets and red salvia.
— Laurie J
***
A spring-time walk,
floods my soul with the beauty of birds, singing
transferring my isolation to the surrounding flock,
grateful, I am
for the air, water and sun to sooth me.
— Laura Glass
***
Fatalities rise.
April is the cruelest month.
And yet
Spring beauties carpet the ground, refusing isolation
Audacious red tulips raise their heads to greet the sun
Magnificent magnolias dance on trees, grateful for the breeze
Elegant egrets pose on the edge of the water
Neighbors now speak across backyard fences
Fathers, working from home, take their children for a walk
April is the cruelest month.
And yet
— Pam Hughes
***
Be grateful, Its spring
Walk in Isolation
In the room of your own
There is no one to talk
Except the water
In the eyes
Tears are gone long ago
How much one can cry
For the loss
Everything has become a number.
— Jey Sushil (Track for International Writers)
***
In isolation I am not waiting
for the world to come to me.
I go out in the spring to walk
where rain water brings flowers and leaves,
and I can breathe and stretch into well being.
— Anonymous
***
And once I was so grateful I
would spring up, walk
on the water and talk.
When I awoke in isolation
they insisted I take a shot.
— Matthew Freeman
***
The walk
to the spring
is not far;
water cold and clean.
How grateful I am
for the luxury
of isolation
— Anonymous
***
Sheltering in place,
full-blown spring in isolation around me,
recalling now that last walk on the KATY,
micro-splashes of green beginning to jut
through winter’s browns and grays,
the eastward flowing Missouri to my left.
Water of life and
I remain, as ever, grateful.
— Steve Givens
***
Nothing happens in isolation
Spring doesn't bloom in secret
So grateful for the water of life
The path is made by walking!
— Braveheart Gillanni
***
Gratefully Quarantined
Isolation by whatever name
allows time to value spring
with deep drinks of water
and walks on paths less traveled
2020 04 08 by Lloyd Klinedinst
***
sound of loneliness?
for a week now, I’ve woken up grateful, not
for the burst of spring leaves filtering the sun through my window, not
for my daily chessboard walk, shifting as a knight, forward/left, forward/right, not
for the water that somehow still flows when I turn on the tap, but
for that Maywood bard holding on in Nashville, holding on in isolation.
today, I need to sing with every ounce of gratitude not stolen by this plague,
I need to sing of Loretta, Donald and Lydia, Sam Stone, and Barbara Lewis HKB,
I need to sing with John.
— Anonymous
***
Deadheads
A dancing bear on a walk passes a grove full of trees and water and colors.
I don’t even know who Jerry Garcia is really.
And I’ve never even listened to any Grateful Dead album.
Not even –“Spring 1990”- It’s live.
And they say, with emphasis,
For the full experience--
“You have to listen in complete isolation, dude.”
— Tila Neguse
***
As I walk to the shore, I think of the reassuring immensity of the waves.
To be immersed in water: covered from head to toe in the fluidity of the sea;
Constantly moving: an endless interlacing.
I think about how it is spring now.
But where there is much to bloom and ascend, there is also so much that shrivels and retreats.
To bed in a bed of flowers: stems sprouting from the valley to the peak.
But where there is much to grow, I am stagnant: in isolation behind transparent glass.
— Luke Markinson ('23)
***
I won’t feel guilt for feeling
grateful and alive in this spring
as I walk among daffodils and crocus
at the water’s edge. Meanwhile,
nurses make their rounds and patients
keep patient in isolation
wondering if today is the day.
— Julia Gordon-Bramer
***
FANTASIES
In my head I walk on water
It beckons
I spring from the shoreline
Hitching a ride on a wave
I’m grateful for the isolation
No one else is there
It’s like floating on air
(I can fly too!)
— Betty Springfield
***
Time Out
I suppose I should be grateful
For historical point in time
Isolation might be fateful
To gather my lifetime of rhyme
This Spring may become a rebirth
To walk the path of inner mind
Occasion to water parched earth
Of hidden poems others to find
— Anon M. Essley
***
Dark Forests
We walk in sunlit silence; we walk in shadows and light.
The woods greet us with something new each time.
I close my eyes for a moment, something in me shifts -
reconnection to the natural world as she is in the spring.
I am the animal rush of water and stone, soil and warmth.
Tears run down my face, a human grief so great
no words can describe.
And I am grateful for everything,
this moment, this isolation, this reawakening.
— Susan Lively
***
Now, you live inside a fluorescent cloud. Last night the fog rolled up and pressed itself to your window. Maybe your apartment broke off from the twelfth floor and floated away. Spare bricks crumbling off and down – who can really say? Open the window to see where Spring went, climb out – it’s dense enough to walk on. Listen to the empty bus below, making all scheduled stops. Can one be grateful? Can one imagine the cold-damp isolation – the freedom? Floating on the fog – out over the cool-dark water?
— Catlyne Lasser
***
The Wishbone
try to sleep to the creaking
of a rusty spring under your head
try to shower in the winter
when you have to wait ages for warm water
try to switch on the light
using a wire with faulty isolation
now, so easy to be grateful
to walk away, so far away
— Tobias Feldmann (International Writers Track)
***
Almost a Rebel
I'm on the verge of violation
to spring myself from isolation.
I'd walk on water to douse this ache.
I want to kiss my grand baby's face.
I'll reconsider. You can bet.
I'm just grateful for the internet.
— Linda O'Connell
***
LIFE WHEREVER
I don’t mind isolation.
Quiet toil
without interruption.
Time to think,
time to be grateful.
Spring blooms,
water cleanses,
Life walks on
wherever we are.
— Sharon Derry
***
G lazed redbuds opened to air,
R ibbons of sunrise summoning spring,
A uroras of morning stir us in
T he isolation we are forced to choose
E ach day, so that next year in the spring rains,
F lush with heavy victory, mourning the dead, but walking more
U nited than before, we can
L augh under the waters of grace.
— Robert Henke
***
We walk in isolation
Together, apart
We breathe the same air, drink the same water
We suffer the same fears
Together, apart
The rebirth of spring will come, perhaps in the summer
We hope not fall
But we will be grateful
Together
— Stacey Barton MSW, LCSW
***
This morning we walked out of the bedroom and, in minutes,
began to argue about why the top apartment
is always the hottest. You said it was the spring sun
beating down on the roof, but I, belligerent,
demanded that heat rises, and the top floor (which is ours)
stores it with grateful greedy hands. I think you are right
but I will never say so. Isolation does wonders for stubbornness.
At noon you hand me, silently, a cool glass of water.
— Gwyneth Henke
***
I am the only one isolated.
I walk through grasses, flowers, trees, birds,
All celebrating spring together.
If I lie down in a free-flowing stream,
Let water wash away the walls
That have kept me alone,
Will the earth be grateful for my presence?
— Carol Haake 4/2020
***
Spending isolation in calm contemplation of
Peace and priorities.
Rippling water follows its path
In slow meanderings through the park
Now full
Gratitude.
— Karen Engelkenjohn
***
Spring starts in isolation,
Six feet apart.
I take a walk by myself,
Grateful for this perceived silence,
Eager to escape the oppressively pink walls of my childhood bedroom.
Here, the only bodies of water are manmade,
This plastic suburbia of dissolving sidewalks.
— Brooke Bulmash, Class of 2021
***
spring forward
walk it off
wade in the water
confined in isolation
yes being grateful
must be
— Jay Buchanan
***
The isolation (of spring)
Walk on (water)
Be grateful (not to sink)
— (Holly Gabelmann)
***
Spring doesn’t spring but walks a slow pace— wades gently through shallow water.
Dawdling, pondering, forgetting all things
away and across and away.
Paddles, to the airy sighs of drowsy trees,
bowing too low in their fleeting gratitude.
All are caught in this nauseating dance,
Sinking into isolation— each blade of grass, each subtle leaf burrows for the ages,
and beloved Spring’s asleep.
— Nicci Mowszowski
***
Went out for a walk by the water
Grateful for the spring air
Surrounded by other walkers
Joggers exhaling heavily as they pass you by
Weren't we supposed to be in isolation?
— Anonymous
***
Breaking through
The icy isolation of Winter,
She is grateful
To be taking a walk
Along the running water nearby - a creek,
Lined by the first fragrant lily blossoms of Spring.
— J. Thomas
***
I lived so long in an isolation of knowing –
from your first somersault within my womb –
that I would never walk with you in Spring,
never know your sweet breath upon my breast,
nor feel the water of your tears, hear the glee of your laughter.
Yet, grateful I shall ever be
that for a time
you lived in me.
— Cathleen Callahan
***
Walking to the door and get my lunch
Ten days of isolation passed--hope I remember it
The fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and loneliness
That I hope my memory does not neglect
Over the spring, water, sun, things that make me feel
Grateful.
— Wei Li
***
Pretty day! How
Grateful am I for
Heman Park this distant Spring?
Its wide radius charts a
Pleasant walk, the River des Peres
A wild running water. Lo,
Police arrive, I've misdemeanored,
Been tossed in isolation.
— Anonymous
***
Breaking Isolation
humming John Prine’s Angel
I walk the dog down our trail
toward sun-bright water grateful
the rain has finally gone
maple leaves like fans spring
open countless uplifted hands
— Cam Whelr MD
***
Alley Spring April
Redbuds pop along the spring branch
Water tumbles, talks with the rocks where
I walk – grateful Johnny jump-ups orchestrate
The frog chorus in early morning isolation.
— Jo Schaper
***
Used to be too Grateful for settling. Missed the fruits of Spring through generous donations of my harvest. Isolation. Restoration. Modulation.
The Walk of evolution that used to mirror naivety, now appears to be a stride on Water, flawless.
— Anonymous
***
When My Hand Seeks Yours
I know I'm supposed to be grateful, when
supper fills my belly, and I
lie across this empty bed and pretend I am. Someone else
who isn't a lover to isolation due to circumstance, who sings
those syllables I'm too afraid to mouth like you. So it goes, water
swift to sea come spring melt, come swallow to nest, perhaps
one day we will walk over the waves that roll beneath our soles.
— Casey Hampton
***
I lived so long in an isolation of knowing –
from your first somersault within my womb –
that I would never walk with you in Spring,
never know your sweet breath upon my breast,
nor feel the water of your tears, hear the glee of your laughter.
Yet, grateful I shall ever be
that for a time
you lived in me.
— Cathleen Callahan
***
Grateful for spring,
I walk near the water,
listening to birds,
feel the sun getting hotter.
In isolation, I am,
but lonely, I’m not.
I have time to dream,
and that’s worth a lot.
— Kelley Lingle
***
Today I am grateful,
I find this isolation,
Part of restoration,
Like water from a spring,
Cool, refreshing, and untouched.
Bubbling along the stream,
As I walk beside it!
— KJR
***
Grateful for isolation in her spring walk,
she ambled to where thought she water to be.
Flowing not, yet indulged she the brackish stew.
Quenching not, yet induced she to wretch, cough and spew.
— Ted
***
i am grateful for spring but not the
burn in my throat when i walk. there is
no better baptismal water than
isolation against the stench of rancid cherry blossoms.
— Sabrina Spence
***
The pathway’s a narrow nuance, nearly unnoticed,
a part in the grasses still brown from winter,
while spring takes its time growing its green.
A chatter of songbirds returned to nest from migration,
harvest leftover abundance from yester year’s life.
While deer, like brown shadows, walk in deep isolation,
walk in grand stillness, to the clear water’s edge.
The heartbeat’s revived, life’s wild rhythm thrums.
Renews and awakens, draws from deep places,
reserves of Earth energy, from the fecund fallow,
winter prepared.
— Bernie Mossotti
***
Social Distancing Waltz
One, you'd probably never say you were grateful for this isolation, but I am.
(two, three)
I move gracefully through Spring arrivals, the tender buds on the dogwood tree sway in the wind.
(two, three)
Walking through the deserted park, I feel almost giddy with relief as I glide while humming a pleasant melody known only to me.
(two, three)
The standing water in the now-still fountain, remnants from winter's chill, and recent showers,
reassures me that my solo dance goes on.
— Kim Lehnhoff
***
Headline image: Diego Marin on Unsplash
